


i’ll make you an angel, baby

by humanveil



Series: a greenhouse filled with ghosts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, References to Sex, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 05:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11479380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: He likes to hear them scream.





	i’ll make you an angel, baby

The Dark Lord calls him forward, watching, carefully, from his corner. He’s cloaked in black, half hidden in shadows, but watching, yes. Always watching.

His turn. _Finally._

Evan grins from behind his mask, the cut of the metal displaying the left side of his mouth. His teeth are on show, sharp and glowing white. Ready for prey.

He looks manic, or feral. Or both.

He raises his wand and _oh_ , he loves this part. Really, he does. The look of fear on the victim’s face. The wide eyes, overflowing with tears. It’s so beautiful, he thinks. Their pain. Their apprehension. Their terror. It’s all so _beautiful._

His Lordship wants them to prove their capability, and Evan plans to do just that. He’s been practicing – muggles, mudbloods, anyone he can get his hands on. He knows he’s good at this. He’ll prove it, too.

He starts off slow. Like foreplay, he thinks. You don’t want to rush right into it. You have to warm the body up. _Prepare_ _it_. Leave the other person panting, sweating, _screaming_. You have to make them _beg_ for it.

Screams of pleasure, of pain. It’s all comes from the same place. He sees no difference.

Only once his victim is ready does he _really_ start.

 _Crucio_. Nice and strong. It has to have impact, has to hurt. Has to make them _shout_.

And his victim does – loud, hoarse. Stunning. His throat is likely dry, burning with the effort. He can probably taste blood, Evan thinks. _Good._

The body shakes, spasms. Fingers are clawing at concrete, trying desperately to hold on to something. To find a lifeline. _Futile_. As if they’d let anyone walk away alive.

It goes on and on and on. Evan could go all day. He loves putting on a show, loves the feel of everyone watching him. Seeing what he can do.

 _Exhibitionist,_ Snape would say. Perhaps he’s right.

Another jet of red light, and the body thrashes. Bangs against concrete. _Tearing itself apart._ His victim is bleeding, begging, bawling. The shrieks are loud, reverberating in the dungeon. Some of the others laugh, and Evan does, too.

 _That’s it_ , he thinks. _Scream for me, darling_.

Another shriek -- high pitched, desperate. Evan keeps laughing.

He feels no remorse, no regret. Why should he? It’s art, in Evan’s eyes; to be able to play someone like this. To create a symphony of screams.

Pure art.


End file.
